


i know you're home, baby

by sickgirl_mp3



Category: None - Fandom
Genre: F/M, phone sex ukwim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-17 07:22:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11270763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sickgirl_mp3/pseuds/sickgirl_mp3
Summary: kiss me through the phone plays while i scream





	i know you're home, baby

Late on a Wednesday night, Jordan calls Beyoncé as she's laying in bed reading the advice column she featured on for Vanity Fair.

“Hello?”

“Baby, I miss you,” Jordan says immediately.

“Aw,” Beyoncé responds, “How have you been, babe?”

“I read your column five times. You have a real way with words,” Jordan compliments.

Beyoncé swears she hears Jordan let out a hiss and a sigh on the other line. She gets her hopes up and asks what he's up to.

“Lemme interrogate _you_ , Mrs. Knowles,” Jordan replies humorously. However, there’s an underlying tone of discomfort in his voice, as if he has something he’s itching to say.

“Damn, okay,” Beyoncé says with a laugh, hoping her light attitude will ease him up.

“What are you- fuck what you're wearing, fuck that,” Jordan says, neediness clear in his voice. “I want you to tell me how much you miss me.”

Beyoncé throws her head back and mouths a “fucking finally.” She hums discontentedly.

“I miss you so much, J, I don't know what to do up here all alone while I wait for you to come back,” Beyoncé replies.

She was being nothing but honest. All she did was spend time with Jordan. She wasn't needy or clingy or codependent, she just spent a nice amount of time with Jordan because she enjoyed his company and he enjoyed hers. They did everything together, so him being away for an extended amount of time always felt wrong.

Jordan chuckles. “I think you’ve got an idea or two.”

“I’ve been listening to old voicemails you've left me, Jordan. It's not the same as having you here talking to me, but I’ll take what I can get,” Beyoncé goes on, “At first I did it just because I missed you and like you, missed the sound of your voice, but then it started to get me all worked up after a while-”

“Aw, Bey,” Jordan interrupts with a quiet moan.

Beyoncé lets her mind wander for a moment; when she closes her eyes she sees Jordan alone, up in his hotel room. For her, the worst part of the visual is him lying in an empty bed. She wishes she could go with him- technically she can, but there’d be no point to it, since all he does on business trips is work. By the time he’d be free enough to spend time with her, he’d be tired. Knowing him, though, he’d most likely forego rest to make her happy.

“And I found old tapes, too. Remember when you made me videotape you fixing the car by yourself two years ago? I came to that twice, you looked so good. I remember that day, you got dirty handprints on my favorite white outfit because you couldn't keep your hands to yourself and you said you needed a break from all the hard work.”

“Twice, huh?” Jordan asks cheekily. “Couldn't be a trooper and go for three?”

Beyoncé giggles. “Shut up. You know, I think about how you’d do me just as good right now as you did that day- if you were here, that is.”

The quietest groan comes from Jordan. Beyoncé almost doesn't hear it.

Beyoncé slips her shorts and panties off, grabbing a pillow sitting next to her head. They were left just as they were when Jordan slept in bed with her last.

“I miss you, daddy.”

Silence is all Beyoncé hears on the other end of the line.

“The meeting table they have over here is cherry wood. It’s got such a nice, smooth finish,” Jordan says suddenly.

“Oh,” Beyoncé says, dejected. That’s how this conversation is gonna go now? Beyoncé wonders what she said that was wrong.

“These meetings are so boring, they make me wanna blow my brains out. You wanna know how I get through ‘em?” Jordan asks.

“How?” Beyoncé returns, starting to grind against the pillow she’s grabbed for earlier.

“You. I think about you being with me; at the meeting yesterday I thought about how we were out eating dinner before I left for my trip. You didn't have any underwear on, and I knew because you’d come into my office earlier to tell me so. And then you said, “see you at dinner, babe,” and walked right out.”

Beyoncé giggles and bites her lip to contain a sigh that bubbles up. “I remember.”

“You had the worst outfit on, too, ‘cause it was the one I bought you the night you took me to Crazy Horse. All that skin showing and I couldn't even touch it. You know how badly I wanted to drag you back into that office and fuck you so well that I’d have to carry you back out myself?”

Beyoncé presses her thighs together at the sound of that, squeezing the plush pillow hard in the process. “Oh,” is all she can breathe out.

“Yeah, “oh,” is right. But it's alright, ‘cause what happened when we got home?”

“You turned me out, daddy, I called before you boarded the plane to tell you I didn't wanna get out of bed,” Beyoncé admits somewhat bashfully, grinding against the pillow.

She’s more than a little upset that she’s not working herself against Jordan’s hands, thighs, or tongue, but she’ll take what she can get.

“And why didn't you want to get out that fucking bed?” Jordan's ego was getting the best of him, it showed in his voice, and all it did for Beyoncé was make her need for him worse. She didn't respond immediately.

“Come on,” Jordan urges.

Beyoncé sighs. “‘Cause I’d be walking all funny.”

“You’re goddamned right, because I fucked you just the way you like it that night and I’ll do it again when I get home, because my girl always gets what she wants,” Jordan promises. “You gonna give me what I want right now, though?”

“What do you want, Jordy?” Beyoncé asks.

“I want you to tell me how much you miss me.”

“Oh, yeah,” Beyoncé replies, “You wanna know what I’m thinking of?”

“Talk to me, babe.”

“I’m thinkin’ about how things would go if I had my way. I’d walk right into that meeting room, you’d tell me how happy and surprised you are to see me; we’d cut the small talk and you’d have me spread eagle on that conference table. You’d tell me not to look at everyone else in the room, to only look at you, and you’d tell me how much you missed me, and my pussy, and my voice, and being with me… You’d give it to me so good, just like you always do, right?”

Jordan hums in agreement, and Beyoncé also hears him breathe harshly out of his nose. “I’m too selfish.”

“What?” she asks as if she doesn’t know exactly what he means.

She doesn’t want to call her husband possessive- the word seems too negative in her opinion, but Jordan isn’t a man who’ll sit by and let just anything go when it comes to how she’s treated. The moment he catches wind of her being disrespected, something’s either being shut down or somebody’s getting a piece of his mind. He didn't own her by any means, but he liked to think that what's “his” is his and it's not for anyone else to mess with.

“Whose is it?” he’d sometimes ask her while they were a mess of tongues and hands and bodies, and every single time, her answer was that she was his. Just as she was his, he was hers; everything with them balances out like this.

“I wouldn’t want all those men just watching you like that. Hearing you saying my name, watching you lay there looking pretty while I fuck you- I like to think that those are things that are just for me.”

“Being watched makes me feel like a prize to be won, but like an unwinnable one,” Beyoncé says, “like those prizes that cost like 300,000 tickets at the county fair that everyone always wants but nobody has the time, money, or patience to get the tickets for it.”

“I had all three, and that’s why I get you all to myself and no one else does,” he says with a chuckle. “Which, speaking of having you to myself, I’m coming home early.”

Beyoncé accidentally squeals. “When?”

“Tomorrow.”

“I can't wait to have you all to myself again,” Beyoncé says happily.

“Baby, I want you so bad,” Jordan tells her, his words followed up with a quiet whine.

She imagines what Jordan must be like at the moment. His cheeks are probably a little red; they always are when he’s worked up. His lip is probably caught between his teeth when he’s not busy using his mouth to talk shit.

“I really wish you were here, Jordy,” Beyoncé complains, “I want your hands all over me, I miss you coming home after a long day of work and handling me-”

Jordan practically growls into the phone with an interruption. “You make me wanna ditch work and catch an early flight home just so I can dig you out. I’ll fucking do it if you keep talking like that.”

“Daddy, I’m-”

Jordan shushes her. “Tell me how you’re getting off. I know that if I’m doing it, you are too.”

“Pillow,” is all Beyoncé says as she moves her hips back and forth and moans softly.

“You about to finish?” Jordan asks.

“I’m kinda close.”

“I want you to use your fingers,” Jordan directs, “Think you can do that for me?”

Beyoncé throws the pillow away from her in a flash, but then she pauses.

“I have acrylics on.”

“Fuck,” Jordan says. After a minute of silence, he pipes up again. “Use that vibrator I bought you.”

Beyoncé reaches for the nightstand drawer next to her and feels around in it for the small vibrator. When she finds it, she tells Jordan.

“Good, put it on the….” Jordan trails off as he thinks, “lowest setting. Yeah, that's it.”

Beyoncé does as she's told with an annoyed groan.

“What's with the complaining, baby?”

“I wanna come, Jordy, you're making me drag this out.”

“Be good and I’ll let you have what you want,” Jordan promises, “Be patient.”

Beyoncé shudders slightly at the vibrations on her clit and a hum comes from her.

“Feels good, huh?” Jordan asks. “Wish I were there for you and not that little fuckin’... thing.”

“Uh huh,” Beyoncé says.

“You know what I miss a lot? Going down on you. Your thighs clamped around my head, the way you taste, how you scratch at my scalp a little while you pull on my hair,” Jordan tells her. His voice is full of nothing but pure want.

It's driving Beyoncé mad. All she can see when she closes her eyes is Jordan’s head between her legs; how he'd spread her legs apart and hold them there while he ate her out and how he’d take his time dragging his tongue over her when she’d act up. She feels herself getting closer and closer to her breaking point as everything seems to be affecting her at once.

On the other line, Jordan groans loudly and sighs sharply.

“You’re close?” Beyoncé asks, circling her clit with the vibrator and shifting her hips around as she tries for more friction.

“Yeah,” Jordan says softly. “I bet you taste so fucking good- I know you taste so fucking good, I wanna taste you so badly. You're gonna let me when I get home, right?”

He doesn't necessarily ask for permission; his “question” is more of a statement. He knows that's what's going to happen when he gets home, and Beyoncé does too.

“You know it's yours whenever you want it, Jordan,” Beyoncé answers.

Jordan swears quietly. “If I get what I want, then you get what you want. I know what you want right now, so go ahead- but lemme hear you while you do it, okay, Bey?”

“You got it dude,” Beyoncé says goofily as she turns the vibrator to the highest setting. Jordan laughs.

A high-pitched squeak comes from her and her back arches up off of the bed.

“You're not gonna be polite and thank me?”

“Thank you, baby,” Beyoncé says, humming loudly and curling her toes at the tight feeling in her stomach.

“I can't wait to get home, honey,” Jordan groans, “as soon as I walk through that door, I’m gonna see you waiting there for me and pick you right up and take you to that fucking bedroom and- fuck, I’m not even gonna wait that long, I’m gonna take shit to the fuckin’ floor. That's how bad I miss you.”

“The floor is cold. I would say it’s dirty, but our maid is paid too much for it to be,” Beyoncé jokes.

“You won't be worried about how cold it is when I’m done with you,” Jordan tells her.

“Jordan,” is the only coherent thing she can find to say at the moment.

“I might have to make you be quiet, too, I think I’d lose my mind if I heard you say my name while we were face to face ‘cause I’ve gotten so used to hearing it through a phone. I wanna feel your skin against mine, I want my mouth on yours, I want my hands in your hair and your legs wrapped around my waist-”

Beyoncé is so caught up in everything Jordan’s doing to her that her orgasm hits her from seemingly nowhere. Her hips jerk and stutter and she shouts Jordan's name as she comes. Small gasps come from her when she doesn't turn the vibrator off, she's so sensitive.

“You sound so pretty when you're coming,” Jordan moans.

As Beyoncé comes down, her short whines and breaths cause Jordan to come a few moments later. She sits and listens to him groan and huff out pleasured sighs. He says her name like it's a prayer and she smiles.

“Bey,” he breathes, dejected, “I miss you.”

“I know you do.”

Jordan kisses his teeth and groans frustratedly. “Shit, I’ve got a dinner meeting in ten. I’m gonna call you back.”

“Okay,” Beyoncé says.

“Hey, babe?”

“Yes, Jordy?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

 


End file.
